


Good Looks and Dumb Luck

by strikeyourcolors



Series: Control(led) Issues [1]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Under the Red Hood
Genre: Blow Jobs, Consensual Kink, Consensual Violence, Face Slapping, Facials, Frottage, Hair-pulling, M/M, Mutually Unrequited, Roughness, Unrequited Crush, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-30
Updated: 2016-12-30
Packaged: 2018-09-13 07:27:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9112687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strikeyourcolors/pseuds/strikeyourcolors
Summary: When the Red Hood shows up in Bludhaven, Dick takes the opportunity to try to reach out to Jason. When things get way too intimate, way too fast, Dick reveals things to Jason he didn't necessarily want him to know and learns things in turn. It's definitely not the treaty he had in mind.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This didn't start off as porn and then it was. This fic involves the consensual exploration of rough play/humiliation kinks with Jason getting in slightly over his head and bullshitting his way through, but Dick totally not minding. Tags are accurate for content. There's not too much emotional baggage with this one. Enjoy!

He's on a mission of mercy, at first. Mercy to Bruce, because Jason certainly doesn't see any of their family intruding on his life as anything approaching kind or caring. Instead of affectionate, Jason calls it paranoid. Instead of them caring for him, they're controlling of him. If Dick can do anything to soothe Bruce, to assure him Jason will be fine, he's going to do it. 

But one night, Nightwing hears one of the small time drug runners complaining that the Red Hood is one of Gotham's freaks, and should stay in Gotham. A quick swoop in reveals that Red Hood is moving in on the Haven's market, and the guy is none too pleased about working for a new boss. It's news to him that Red Hood is even in his city, but when he knows that he's a dog with a bone. He's not about to let it go. 

If he could just get Jason to talk to him. If he could get Jason to agree to talk to someone about some sort of treatment. He's seen the half-completed diagnostic scan of Jason's brain that Bruce managed to do in the field. Bruce pulls it up sometimes and stares at it. Dick knows enough to connect that there's evidence of a brain injury and that Bruce is hoping it's going to heal. He's hoping for the boy he buried back, and while Jason is never going to be that boy, Dick would settle for being able to be in the same room with the two of them and no one getting shot. Bruce doesn't seem to remember that they _all_ have evidence of brain injuries. Last time Dick got smacked over the head he had forgotten how to hold anything smaller than a toothbrush and had to basically retrain with their tools until he remembered. Tim had fallen twenty feet and forgotten the last month of his life, one time. Bruce guards his scans and Dick thinks they're probably a wreck.

But Bruce is hopeful, and Dick wants to reward that hope. He tracks Red Hood to an abandoned house that, maybe, was nice about ten years ago. It hasn't been stripped for parts yet. The fixtures are marble. The floors are wood, where they aren't rotting away from water damage. It's practically an urban scavenger's paradise.

Despite all his care, Dick still nearly falls prey to a remotely activated snare that would have sent him careening over the chandelier. “Hey!” He yells, knowing Jason at least must be here if the trap went off at exactly the risky moment. "I just want to talk! I have information to give you." Dick really hadn't intended to add that last part. He was above bribery, wasn't he?

But maybe it works. He hears Jason's, no, Red Hood's, voice. He still has the helmet on, somewhere in the shadows. "Strip."

Dick reaches for his escrima sticks, putting them on the floor. "Okay, no weapons. Like I said, I want to talk." Even if their bodies are weapons. Even if a lack of weapons never stopped a savage fight and, in fact, instigated it sometimes. He adds some batarangs to the pile, and a couple of knives, then some flash bombs and smoke pellets when he's still waiting for a response. Why do most villains let Batman get away with simply putting down his utility belt? Jason is leaving him with absolutely nothing. "That's all I have." 

"Communicators," comes the instant response. "Drop them to the floor. I'm talking to _you_." And Dick can imagine he means he doesn't want Bruce or anyone else listening in. He doesn't want to be recorded.  Jason is in a paranoid mood tonight.

Dick resists the urge to press the button to activate the GPS before he places his cell phone down. This is about trust. Besides that, Jason can probably detect when something like that goes off. He slips the unit out of his ear as well and puts that on top of his phone, to hopefully not disappear into the pile of weapons. There's no one currently on the other end, but it's nice to heave. 

"Upstairs,” Jason's voice instructs when he's finished. “Turn right. Third door." That does strike Dick as a little unusual because, when given a choice, Jason goes low. It had hurt in a weird way, at first, that the kid who had absolutely loved flying no longer wanted to take to the air. At least until Dick had gotten a good look at him and he'd realized it was pure practicality. Jason is a big guy now. He's agile as hell for his size, but his strength is no longer going to be somersaulting through the air. 

So different from Tim, who Dick knows will always be using the flips he taught him. If Jason could see how different they were, maybe he would...

"I don't have all night, Goldie." The nickname, mean spirited as it is, gives Dick some hope that they really can talk tonight and that Jason isn't luring him in to sucker punch him and leave. He carefully moves up the stairs and turns right, crouched low and ready for something to leap out of the shadows at him. He feels maybe a little stupid when he realizes Jason isn't up here; a speaker is. The sound is clear enough that Dick mistook it for Jason wearing his helmet. 

The third door contains another staircase. Figures. Going up just to go down. He follows it slowly, looking out less for traps and more for missing treads. It leads to an area barely big enough to be called a closet, and Dick is about to make a dash back up the stairs when one of the walls slides to the side. Then it's down another hallway until, at last, the final wall opens up into a spacious bedroom. There aren't any windows, but it doesn't quite feel underground. Dick is pretty disoriented after his trek through probably the walls of the house.

Jason sits in an armchair in front of the fireplace. One of his legs is thrown casually over the arm and Dick remembers that position. Years ago, much shorter legs, but Jason had always been a sprawler. At least before he straightens up, postures, pulls the persona of Red Hood over himself and loses the spirit of the boy Dick had known. "Why are you operating in Bludhaven?" Dick asks. Business first. 

"Finish stripping," Jason counters. "And I'll tell you."

Dick holds his hands up and turns in a slow circle for inspection. "I don't have anything else on me."

There's a quick, vicious smirk on Jason's lips. "The suit. Take it off. I know all the bugs you can have on those things." It's paranoia. It has to be. Of course their suits can be wired for tracking or video or sound. Dick's isn't. Dick doesn't have anyone to watch even if it was. He hesitates too long because Jason points to the door. It's not the door Dick came in. It's an actual, legitimate door. "Nice seeing you, Nightwing."

Dick is sure he doesn't quite hold back his noise of irritation, because Jason looks amused. It's clear, though, that his options are taking off his uniform or leaving. Dick's fingers find the catches and locks on his suit and he disables them before unzipping the suit, taking it off carefully since he's going to have to get it back on tonight and it might have to be in a hurry. The light layer of armor is built in to that model. Dick is left with his briefs and an undershirt on before Jason is satisfied with how far he's stripped. "Satisfied?" He asks, and realizes he's about to put his hands on his hips. 

"Mask off too. Throw the suit the way you came," Jason orders, and Dick sighs but obeys. He peels off the mask last, tossing it on to the costume. That door closes when he's performed the task. "Now," Jason says sweetly. "What was your question?"

He's trying to pick a fight. Dick grits his teeth. "Why are you in my city?" He asks. "Why are you interfering in Bludhaven't drug trade?"

Jason doesn't look surprised that he knows. Jason stands up, stalking around him. He's in Dick's city, but this is Jason's house. Jason's at ease. "Why does it matter to you? I have business here and I'll be out when it's concluded."

"It helps in any business to know who you're dealing with," Dick shoots back. "If I just hear about a mysterious figure in drug rings I won't be listening for information to help him. If they're planning a strike against him I won't bother to get involved and warn him. If-"

"You would warn me?" Jason asks, tone skeptical. "That's awfully close to helping me and that isn't allowed, is it? You're not such a good little boy if you do that." Before Dick can respond, he's moving.

For being so big, Jason is still fast. He has Dick on his knees before Dick can think about it, a hand fisted in his hair, dragging his head back and exposing his neck. It gives Dick a moment of panic before Jason kicks him and holds him. Just a hold. There's no knife dragging across his neck or muzzle behind his ear. "Why," Jason says darkly. "Are you here? Why not catch me during business hours? Why come where I live?"

It can't be where Jason actually lives, can it? The room is clean and well kept. Dick can see the corner of a novel sticking out from beneath the chair. But Jason has a lot of rooms like this. He winces as Jason gives his head a shake, pulling his hair."What information do you have for me?"

"Your loaders on the South side aren't happy with Red Hood," Dick says. He feels...strange. Exposed. In his underwear, on his knees, with Jason keeping him there. He can feel the muscles of his thighs pressed against his back.

"Not impressive, Dickiebird. I don't think any of them are happy with me right now."

"They're planning to skim off the top. Get you into trouble with your big buyer." Who that is, Dick isn't sure, but Jason doesn't need to know how completely clueless he is. He needs an in, he needs Jason to think he's more knowledgeable about his activities. Dick thinks that, maybe, he's just damned some men over this information. Guilty men, but he'll have to make sure to pick them up and put them in a cell before Jason takes off their heads.

He's pushed forward, arms wrenched behind him. He lands on the floor on a threadbare rug, face ground into it as Jason jams a knee in his back to hold his wrists there. "Good to know. But if you're still asking me why I'm here I wonder if you have a brain in that pretty little head." The fingers that trail down the side of Dick's face are almost gentle. Coaxing, not threatening. 

"Gotham's trade not enough?" Dick wheezes out, wiggling underneath him to test his range of motion. Short of full on attacking, he's not going to be getting Jason's superior weight off of him. 

"Gotham has a reputation now. You can't do business there without a cape getting involved. Bludhaven? Nightwing leaves you alone unless you cause trouble." Jason looks smug. Dick hates him a little for it. "Having to compromise your virtue a little when you have a whole big city to yourself?"

Dick has. Dick does. He'll bust up a drug deal if he comes across one but it just can't be priority. There's murder and corruption and trafficking of the human sort to deal with. There are only so many hours in a night and some things he has to pass on to the police and hope they get on top of it. Apparently he's missed the chance to even put fear into the drug trade.

"Oh Goldie," Jason says with false sympathy. He leans forward, so much of his weight on Dick's back that Dick is finding it very difficult to breathe. He feels it when Jason talks, feels the words and warm air against his temple and his ear. "Life isn't so easy when you're on your own, is it?" It's just the sensation, Dick tells himself. It's just a physical reaction that he bucks against the floor and shivers as Jason breathes on his neck. The laugh he gives is dark, is nothing like a little brother locked away somewhere in Dick's mind.  The implication is heavy that Jason has been on his own for far longer.

"I wanted to talk," Dick wheezes out, squirming underneath him."Just us." He gives another desperate motion, trying to gain an inch of literal breathing room. "Can't breathe." 

Jason relaxes his hold on him, but only a faction. There's still a knee at the small of his back. Jason is straddling him, he realizes, because Jason knows better than to underestimate the power in his legs and in that position he can avoid getting kicked. "You want to talk," Jason repeats skeptically. 

"Would I be in your torture dungeon stripped down to my underwear if I wanted to fight?" Dick counters. "I'm not that stupid." 

"Stupid enough to think this is a torture dungeon," Jason points out. "What do you want, Dick?" His voice has changed again. There's less of Red Hood's bravado; Jason sounds almost tired. Dick shifts, testing the limits of the hold, which of course rubs him against the rug. It's rough. He'll have a carpet burn on his face if he's not careful but it feels...

It feels _good_ having Jason pin him down this way. Normally Dick would question if it was his own brain damage coming into play but he'd found out a long time ago he enjoyed this sort of thing. Just, he hadn't really considered it with Jason of all people. What was wrong with him?

"You need to be safe," Dick blurts out. Sometimes he things it's a miracle he never reveals the grand plan to the super villains. "I'll never condone what you do. We'll never agree to you killing. But on your own? You need someone you can call for back up. If you're hurt or in over your head or..." Jason lifts him up by his shoulders, but doesn't remove himself from where he's straddling Dick's thighs. It makes his back bend uncomfortably and he holds the strain, feels it in his abs, before Jason slams him back against the floor. The rug provides a little bit of padding, but it still hurts.

"I don't need your help," Jason hisses. "I don't need to play by your rules and he won't keep me on a leash because I don't need you or him or anyone."

"He's not involved in this," Dick replies, which is true enough. If Dick dies from doing this then Bruce will be grief-stricken with a little dash of _I told you so_ at his grave. "I didn't tell him you're here. Didn't...I'm not here because he wants me to be, Littlewing." 

The name earns him another vicious shake. Dick shuts his eyes, a little nauseated, a little turned on, and embarrassed to feel either way. Jason has one hand free and he's running it over Dick's body. Looking for weapons, looking for some recording device. He won't find anything. 

"I'm here for you," Dick continues because if there's ever been anything he's been good at, it's talking. "I want to look out for you. And I hope you'd do the same for me. Though I have to say, concussing me first is not starting this off on a great foot."

Jason lifts his weight just a bit and Dick thinks maybe he's allowing him room to move. But no. As soon as Dick starts to ease onto his knees, Jason flips him. Now Dick is on his back, staring at a reinforced ceiling, with Jason firmly rooted on top of him and once again patting him down. "No wires," He says. He sounds surprised. 

"No wires," Dick agrees. "No wires. No bugs. Just me." He has to phrase this carefully. He can't say he wants to help Jason because Jason doesn't want help. "We could have a treaty when you're in town." Yeah, a treaty. That made them sound like equals.

Jason stills on top of him, hands resting on Dick's chest. Dick knows that he can probably feel how fast his heart is beating. Abnormally fast. "What kind of treaty?"

"I let you know what I hear. You let me know what you hear. Easy terms." Dick squirms, and regrets squirming because it reminds him of how solid Jason is above him. His body is reacting, however much Dick is trying to control it. Awkward boners were really just a fact of life crime-fighting in your teens but usually he had more protection in the form of a cup or his life being in peril. That and usually his body was smart enough to know if he was in a dangerous situation and it had firmly decided this was a fun situation instead.

"I'm going to let you up," Jason decides. "Stay on your knees. Hands on top of your head." He climbs off, starting to drag Dick to the necessary position by the grip on his hair. "You want a drink? Feels like we need a drink if we're going to talk terms."

And just like that he's reasonable. Except for the fact Dick is pretty sure he's lost some hair to that hand yanking his head around. He might get through this alive. He might make progress, even with Jason's ever changing moods.

Except that briefs don't hide a lot. They don't quite ruin the line of his suit and they aren't a ridiculous enough pattern to be embarrassed by but they're not the boxers he favors. And Jason's is definitely observing that lack of discretion.

"Hey, sailor," Dick says and tries to make a joke of it. "My eyes are up here."

Jason's eyes snap to his face. Dick wishes that he hadn't said anything, because the way Jason stares at him is intense. Especially when Jason points out. "You're hard."

"Not all the way," Dick protests as though that means a damn thing. He's half hard, at least. Does that leave half the room for deniability? 

"Dickie," Jason says like he's scolding him. "You're not a kid at prom."

"I don't know what prom you went to but frisking and hair yanking aren't usually part of the experience so..." Dick realizes a moment to late what he's said. Shit. 

Jason leaps on his slip up, the look on his face nearly feral. "I got you hard?" He asks. He seems absolutely delighted. He tugs Dick's hair again and Dick groans. His dick gives a traitorous twitch even when he tries to remind it that Jason is still technically their enemy. Or their adopted brother. Something that isn't arousing, anyway.

"You like it _rough_?" Jason asks and Dick doesn't answer even though those exact words have come out of his mouth as a statement at some point in his life. Maybe with a wink. He never really seriously evaluated if he liked it that way because of his job or in spite of it. 

"Get me that drink," Dick says. "And let's forget this happened."

Jason considers that. "You know I wasn't threatening you sexually, right?"

"Fuck. Fuck, yes I know that," Dick replies, one hand moving from on top of his head to rake over his face with shame. Even when Jason was being menacing it wasn't sexual. When his mouth had been near his throat Dick had been more convinced he would tear open his jugular than kiss him. "I don't get off on that." 

Jason still has him by the hair, but he lets Dick ease into a sitting position. He's behind him enough that Dick can't see his face, which is at least a little irritating. "What does get you off?" And one large hand is on his belly. His muscles tense. He resists the urge to squirm. 

"This is getting a little personal," He protests, as though wrestling in his underwear was not, and Jason presses up against his back. He's warm, solid muscle, even through his clothes. He has at least two inches on Dick's height. "You," Dick admits, mouth running away with him once again. "Just...you pinning me. But not trying to gut me or break my leg." The clarification is necessary. 

He feels Jason move. Feels Jason lift to his knees and press against his back and is that? Dick doesn't dare move. He doesn't even breathe lightly for fear of what might happen.

"I like pinning you," Jason whispers to him and that is totally a bulge in his pants. "Do you...?" Jason is standing up. It gives Dick use of his arms and legs, and he could jerk away from the hand in his hair if he really wanted to. Jason is asking his consent, he realizes through the haze of arousal quickly swarming through his brain and making it nearly impossible to think. Jason wants to know it's alright to continue.

"Yeah," Dick breathes. "Yeah, I do." He does want to do this. He's fine with this. Whatever he means, the words make Jason shudder and yank him forward. Dick lands with a hand on one of Jason's thighs and his cheek against the fly of his pants. He can feel Jason's flesh underneath, hard and hot, but Jason doesn't let him move his hand upward. Instead he pulls his hair, guiding Dick's face to nuzzle against him. Back and forth, pressing his cheek against him, or his forehead, or his temple. Trusting, because they both know Dick could headbutt him before he could stop him. But Dick doesn't want to do that. He really doesn't want to do that.  

The material is soft. Softer than Red Hood's uniform. There's no underwear beneath it, Dick realizes at one pass. Of course it needs to be soft. He mouths at the cloth, at Jason beneath, getting another little shudder and buck of his hips in response. 

Jason's fingers reach down and he's glad they're not shaking. He needs the mobility. He needs to look confident. He's still a little awe struck that he has Dick Grayson on his knees, in his underwear, hard and begging to suck his cock. He undoes his fly and pulls out his mostly hard prick, trying not to let his eyes close at how hungry Dick looks for it. "Show me what you can do, Golden Boy." He's proud his tone is arrogant, and not the least bit uncertain.

Dick dives on him. He tries to fit all of Jason in his mouth with one attempt which proves to be a mistake. He gags, entire body heaving for a split second before he swallows down the reflex and tries again, determined. Jason's thicker than he anticipated, but Dick isn't about to balk at that. He gets a little more in his mouth this time, bobbing his heard to work his throat open. The eagerness in the motion isn't due to the hand in his hair pushing or pulling, but it helps. 

It's better than nice, the little sting of pressure when Jason's fingers tighten. He protests when Jason uses the hold to drag him off. There's a brief flicker of doubt in his expression, Dick thinks. Some caution like he's about to be reprimanded for touching Dick at all.

"Follow me over here," Jason orders and Dick scrambles to obey without a moment's hesitation. Jason releases his hair and takes a few steps to resume his position in the chair, legs spread. Dick tries to crawl between them and, Jesus, is he really crawling around for Jason without even a request? He braces his hands back on his thighs and is ready to go down on him again when he feels a nudge against his groin. 

Jason's shoe. Soft-soled as it is, Dick isn't really a fan of that kind of threat even in sex play. Maybe it's the fact that the criminals Nightwing chases always seem to go for a crotch-shot. He's thinking about moving his foot away, at least,not until Jason moves it. The pressure is light and careful, but still so _present_ that Dick shivers. As he leans forward he can get more contact, can get the feeling of the leather through the thin fabric of his briefs.

He hasn't even been here fifteen minutes and somehow he has Jason's cock in his mouth and he's humping his shoe. Jason has some definite persuasion skills, and Dick knows he can't even share that information with anyone else for how much it would reveal about Dick himself. Jason probably knows it too.  Jason always liked to appear the stupid Robin.

There's nothing harsh in Jason's face in the glimpses Dick catches of it. The glimpses are brief since he's intent on his task. He's focused on the warm flesh filling his mouth, on the way Jason thrusts up just enough to bump the back of his throat. Dick grinds against the toe of Jason's shoe, cock throbbing to full hardness almost immediately. He wants this. He needs the way Jason fills his mouth and pushes into his throat, just the edge of too much. He needs the rumble of a moan from Jason's chest when Dick swipes his tongue over the head, when he begs for more precome from his slit. 

"You're a slut for it," Jason breathes, one hand moving to cup the side of Dick's face and feel himself through the thin layer of his cheek. "Fucking look at you." There's a compliment in his tone, Dick decides. It makes primal parts of Dick preen with pleasure. Jason likes to watch him and Dick _loves_ to be watched. 

There's an ache in his jaw from keeping it open so long. It makes his pace falter just a bit, and every aborted attempt to swallow around Jason is met with a moan. Dick performs for him, lifts his hips higher than he needs to, whimpers around the cock in his mouth whenever his own is against Jason. But it's not enough, and even lost in his bliss, Jason seems to realize that. 

He lets himself be shoved away and Jason's fingers go for the hem of his undershirt. He jerks it up and off and then his fingers hook the waist of his briefs. Dick quickly assists because Jason isn't being particularly careful and that's not a pain he wants to experience.

"Still pretty," Jason tells him, teal eyes raking over his form and taking it all in. Jason is still dressed and Dick feels exposed and wrong and it's absolutely incredible. Jason pulls him against him and Dick goes willingly into the chair, straddling his lap, pressing his aching cock against Jason's. Jason kisses him on the mouth, to his surprise, but it's all teeth and tongue and it somehow still sets all of Dick's nerves on fire. "What else do you like, pretty thing?"

Dick tries not to answer. He goes to kiss Jason's throat which gets him a prompt and surprising smack on the hip in warning so he settles for scraping his teeth over Jason's jaw instead. When he tries to rut more firmly against Jason his hands grip his hips, stilling him. It's maddening, this lack of stimulation, and Jason isn't about to be distracted. "Do you like being tied up?" Jason prompts. "Like being degraded? Slapped? Treated like less than the perfect thing you are?"

One of those options doesn't quite fit. Dick doesn't have enough blood in his brain to evaluate too much how perfect the younger man thinks he is. Jason doesn't let him move until Dick whispers "All of it." He gets a few good rocks of his hips out of that answer before Jason nudges him backward and slaps him. 

It startles a little, squeaky cry of surprise out of him. Jason smirks. "Had to make sure you were paying attention," He tells him. The sting of it lingers on Dick's face and the fact that Jason Todd just open handedly slapped him really has him paying attention. "You're still hard," Jason says, reaching between them, flicking his erection in a way that is just this side of pain and has Dick making a choked noise in his throat and trying to follow Jason's hand with his hips. "I guess you weren't lying." 

It's almost fortunate that Jason is hard too, Dick thinks. Otherwise he would really be in trouble because Jason is already outmaneuvering him and he dreads to think of how much worse it would be if Jason had full use of his mental abilities. He's tapped so perfectly into this part of Dick that anything he wants, Dick wants to give him. "How do you want to get off?" Jason asks him. Dick wants to say he doesn't care, that he just wants it soon. Jason asks it teasingly but there's also something halting in him. Dick wonders how many sexual partners he's actually had. This doesn't seem like something Jason would do regularly. No, it seems like something he's testing. Something he's bluffing his way through.

Dick can give him this. Dick can teach him without acting like he's caught on. Which, of course, leaves Dick choosing. Not penetrative sex. That's off the table tonight for Dick and he thinks Jason would never even put it on there to begin with. He wonders why he's only thinking in terms of tonight, but there are more important issues to deal with. 

Issues that definitely require attention, Dick thinks, when Jason wraps a hand around both of them and starts to stroke. That makes it even more difficult to think. Pleasure is pooling hot in his belly and he wants to tell Jason he wants to come like this. Get off to his cock against Jason's and that large fist wrapped around them both. But Jason deserves maybe a little more of a show and Dick thinks he deserves to hate himself a little less tomorrow when he wakes up and everything he's done the night before becomes real.

"I want to make you feel good," Dick says, trying for cocky and needy and thinking he really shouldn't feel as shy as he does when he'd been rubbing off against Jason's shoe. "With my mouth. With my hand. With whatever you want." He wiggles down suggestively on Jason's lap, but he doesn't position himself to get fucked. Dick is a little distracted by what it must feel like. He knows that thick cock sinking into him would feel fucking perfect, would spread him so wide. But not now. Not for this. He has one shot at not massively screwing this up.

"Yeah?" Jason says a little disbelievingly. His smirk is gone and there's a more open look on his face. Pleasured, half-lidded. Genuine. Dick likes it. How many things he's done have ever actually been about Jason and what Jason needs? "And what about you? I asked about you."

 _I want you to fuck me._ Dick says in his mind, if only for benefit of his sanity. He thinks of it, making his expression needy and lustful and like this is the best idea he's ever had. He rolls his hips against Jason's and thinks it just might be as he leaves a smear of precome against Jason's pants. "I want to jerk off while you watch me. I want you to tell me when it's okay to come. When I'm allowed. Can we do that?"

He's mixing a lot of elements here, Dick knows. He's taking the risk that Jason won't abuse the control Dick is giving him. It's so easy for this to go wrong physically and emotionally, but he trusts Jason. Maybe not to kill a drug dealer, maybe not to get along with the family, but he trusts him with his body. He holds his breath, waiting for some acknowledgment of his plan. 

"Yeah," Jason tells him, voice husky. "Yeah, we can do that." He really likes that idea. Likes the control of Dick, and he wonders, will wonder later, what kind of person that makes him. He's taking it, but Dick's freely offering. "I want your mouth," He tells Dick, fingers lifting to trace already swollen lips. "I want your mouth and then I want to come on your face." It's a fantasy Jason wasn't even aware of having. Not until this moment. Maybe he'd jerked off a couple of times as a teenager to ideas similar to this one but they were never so concrete and immediate. 

Dick bucks against him a few more times, and it tests his resolve. He wants them both to come just like this. Preferably now. But, too soon, Dick is sliding down, getting between his thighs again. Jason feels hot. Not just from the clothes he has on, or the exertion but because Dick fucking Grayson is about to get a facial and he's the one giving it to him.

"Touch yourself while you do it," Jason breathes. Dick offers him another grin, one hand going between his legs while the other touches Jason and then his cock back in that wet, slick heat of Dick's mouth.

Dick certainly has experience. There's not a hint of teeth. Only friction against his lips, only the wet flick of his tongue or the drag of it on the underside of his cock. Dick fucks his face on Jason's dick. There's no need for him to actually do anything. But he wants to. He pushes back Dick's dark hair so he can watch his face, can watch flesh disappear between his stretched lips. He can feel the motion of Dick's other arm as he touches himself. He wonders how Dick likes to be touched. If he goes hard and quick to the end or if he teases himself. If he wants anything beyond his dick touched.

Dick sucks his cock like it's his goal in life. It's wet and messy and Jason is definitely going to have to change his pants, but it's absolutely great. He can buck his hips up, shove Dick's face _down_ and Dick moans around him, sends vibrations through him, and takes it. He takes it and asks for more. Dick is actually drooling, and Jason never thought it would be one of the hottest things he's ever seen.

Jason is close. Dick can feel it in the cant of his hips, in the unconscious tightening of that hand in his hair. He doubles his efforts, pretends his jaw doesn't burn and his throat doesn't ache. He drags his tongue hard against him and Jason jerks away, pushes him back to fall on his ass as Jason gets to his feet, the chair at the back of his thighs. He almost asks what he's done wrong. At least until Jason's hand closes on himself, strokes himself. It's going to be that kind of coming on his face, then.

"Don't stop," Jason pants, gaze falling to where Dick literally sits stupid with himself in hand. “Keep going. Want you to get off.”

He lifts himself up, flexing his hips, rolling into his own hand. He knows he's all curves, all flexing muscle and scars. He knows he's lovely to watch. But he has eyes for Jason, because Jason is just as incredible. The way Jason's tongue flicks out over his cracked lips. The way he fucks into his fist like he's punishing himself. Dick quickens his pace to match him and, after meeting Jason's gaze, sticks out his tongue and opens his mouth. 

It does Jason in. Dick tips his head at the first wet splatter against his cheek, letting Jason rub the head of his dick over his lips, letting him jerk the last of his come out onto his tongue. He's setting himself up to give Jason the best visual, but Dick feels good. Used. Like he's done something entirely right. 

"Now you," Jason says and the hand in his hair is suddenly gentle. Fingers are running down the clean side of his face. "I want to see you lose it." 

Dick gasps. Jason holds his gaze as he strokes himself and Dick's mind drifts. It drifts to what Jason had done. To what Jason could potentially do to him. If he'd held him down and rutted against his ass. If he was _inside_ him. The scent of Jason is thick and heavy and Jason only has to give him a glancing look of appreciation and approval and Dick comes, shouting a little louder than he intended, toes pointing against the floor as he spills himself over his fist and stomach.

Jason has had a moment longer to recover than he has. It feels like Dick only blinks and Jason has tucked himself back in his pants and is throwing something at him. Napkins, Dick realizes, like you'd get at a fast food place. He bats at them like a cat in order to catch them all and Jason looks on with amusement. Bastard.

There's something else there, lingering behind his gaze. Dick's not enough of an idiot to think it's sadness, but it might be something like regret. Not regret for what they'd just done, but what they could have been doing if the cards were played differently. It's a kind of regret they all share, because they've only been dealt so many hands in life.

"There are trip wires on the roof of Bludhaven Bank and Trust," Jason says simply and when Dick stares at him he adds "You said you would tell me and I would tell you. That's our treaty."

Dick wonders how Jason can think of trip wires and banks when his face is covered in come, when his stomach is sticky, and when he positively reeks of Jason. He pulls his undershirt back on first, since he finds it first, and then the briefs are pulled up his legs. Jason watches. Jason doesn't give him the illusion of privacy.  Jason doesn't offer him a shower or any water or even a snide comment.

"Thanks," Dick says woodenly. "Uhm." He doesn't know what to say. Fortunately Jason strides toward the not-a-door he'd entered through and opens it, pulling out his Nightwing suit and tossing that at him along with his mask. “Is gently hanging things to me overrated or something?” He snaps. Dick isn't sure if he should be grateful just to get the suit back at all. It hurts, a little, even if it shouldn't. They're enemies. Jason has no reason to be kind to him even after that. 

Jason looks uncertain again and Dick realizes he's still purposefully trying to play the scene. There's none of Jason's playful, snarky banter, there's not even any of Jason's anger. There's Jason doing what he thinks he should do. He's trying to mistreat him because Dick had enjoyed it not five minutes ago. In the story of Jason Todd's life, Dick knows there are going to be a lot of chapters titled "Misunderstandings". 

He wiggles into the suit, not bothering to make certain the lines of it are perfect. It's not on backwards or inside out and that's fine with him. He turns around, back to Jason. "Zip me up?" He asks, expressing that he's teasing, trying to gain back the playful atmosphere. When Jason steps forward to do that, Dick steps pack, pressing his ass against his groin. He feels Jason stiffen, feels him uncertain of how the rules have changed on him yet again. Dick can at least teach him this much. "I don't stay your whore, Jason. Whatever we just did. If it happens again. The clothes come back on and I'm your equal, you got it? It doesn't change anything." 

"Of course," Jason says. The uncertainty is gone, replaced with a kind of emptiness Bruce would be proud of if it wasn't so often used against him. It makes them both nearly impossible to read, but Dick feels it's masking hurt in this case. "Why would it?"

Dick wants to apologize. He fights back that urge. "I didn't mean it like that and you know it," He tells him. He wasn't dragging their real life emotional issues into their sexual ones. He secures the suit, makes it so no one who doesn't know the security catches is going to get it off him without some serious effort and a lot of pain. "So are you going to stay here for very long?"

"In this city or in this crash space?"

"Either. Both." Dick shrugs. "I just need to know where to find you, if I can. You know. For _treaty_ business. You drive one hell of a bargain."

That challenging, proud look is back in Jason's eyes. Dick's glad to put it there. Surprisingly so. "I'll find you," Jason tells him and lets him out the opposite door. It leads right into the entry hall, right where Dick left his communicators and his weapons. "Don't rely on dumb luck and your good looks to lead you to me next time." Once Dick has stepped out, the door is slammed and locked. He doesn't even have time for a witty retort. He still doesn't know exactly why Jason is in Bludhaven. 

He's forgotten his mission of mercy. He's forgotten who Jason is to Bruce. He's more focused on who Jason is becoming to him. 


End file.
